


I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship (We Should Be Lovers Instead)

by UnhelpfulPanda



Series: JohnDave Week 2017 [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cheating, Friends to Lovers, I guess there's kind of cheating? idk, M/M, Minor John Egbert/Vriska Serket, Mutual Pining, Pining, Songfic, sabotaging relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 12:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11402115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnhelpfulPanda/pseuds/UnhelpfulPanda
Summary: "Jenny take my hand, 'cause we are more than friends; I will follow you until the end."-"Jenny", Studio Killers(Johndave week 2017, day 2, "Song Day")





	I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship (We Should Be Lovers Instead)

**Author's Note:**

> Johndave week 2017, day 2: song day
> 
> I chose the song [ "Jenny" ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hyj4JFSErrw) by the Studio Killers  
> This came out really dramatic lmao but I just went with it honestly.

 

            John Egbert. He’s your best friend; has been since you were both nerdy 10 year olds fumbling around on the internet trying to seem like you were cool. Or, well, _you_ were trying to seem like you were cool. John never once hid how much of a dweeb he was.

            His sincere dweebiness is probably why you fell in love with him in the first place.

            Oops. That was a thing that definitely happened.

            So, yeah, John was your best friend, but there were a lot of things he didn’t know about.

            He never realized that whenever you’d go visit him (you lived a few hours away from each other, close enough that you could take a train to visit him but far away enough that if you _did_ come visit, you’d be there for a few days to make the most of said visit) you would purposefully forget to pack enough clothes so that he would let you borrow his clothing.

            He certainly never knew you’d sometimes go home still wearing his shirt, and every time without fail you’d use the shirt as a pillowcase for as long as you were able to so that the smell of him invaded your senses and you could pretend he was sleeping beside you.

            Fuck, even admitting that to yourself was embarrassing. Let alone when your older brother caught you nuzzling into the pillow and mumbling in your sleep. You don’t even remember how long it took for Bro to stop mocking you in a high falsetto that sounded _nothing_ like your voice, saying, “ _oooh, I’m Dave Strider, and I’m in looooove with John! Oh, John, let’s get married! Let’s have babies, John_!” and other dumb shit like that.

            That wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg that was your huge homo crush on the brunette, either.

            No, because you had to take it a step further and _steal shit from him_.

            You never stole things he would miss; usually it was just articles of clothing he never actually wore. Things that meant nothing to him, but meant the goddamn world to your dumb infatuated ass. A baseball cap. A few ratty t-shirts. A pair of gaudy short shorts Rose had gifted him that had the word “JUICY” bedazzled on the ass. That one he _had_ worn, just once, just to get back at Rose.

            And fuck if that ass doesn’t haunt you to this day. “JUICY” is fucking right. You never wore the shorts either of course, just occasionally looked at them and… thought about him.

            Let’s not think of that right now, it would get pretty awkward since you were…

            Where were you again?

            Oh, right, at a fucking party, zoning out while watching John dance with his _new girlfriend_. Ugh, the chick was all over him, flipping her long blonde hair in his goddamn face and rubbing up against him. What was her name again? Vriska, you think. You were growing pretty bored of watching her rub her lack of tits and ass against him. Damn bitch, could you _not_ try to have sex with him in the middle of the fucking dancefloor?? Or at all, preferably.

            At least John looked just as bored, you thought to yourself with a smug grin.

            A vibration on the table you were leaning your elbows against tore your attention away from your best friend and major crush getting felt up. Thank god, it was like a damn trainwreck; you couldn’t look away. She _looked_ like a trainwreck too, you thought to yourself, snickering internally at your unspoken insult.

             It was a notification on John’s phone that Jade had posted a photo, probably a selfie of her at this same party. You felt your phone vibrate from in your pocket with the very same notification.

            John left his phone at the table… with his social media signed in…

            To anyone else, the fact that he was logged into his social media app would be completely useless because they don’t know the code to unlock his phone. You, however, boast the advantage of being his best friend, so you tapped out the combination, “0413” (his birthday, because he’s unoriginal).

            Sure enough, the app was open, a smiley face with a banner saying “Hello, John!” and, underneath, the new post icon. Your finger hovered over the button.

            If you went through with your idea, John might get super mad at you. He’ll know it was you, of course; you were sitting right next to his phone. You glanced up at John and his bitchy girlfriend, watching as she tugged him down by his shirt and kissed him, and you gritted your teeth and pressed the new post icon, quickly typing out first who to notify about the post (@everyone, so there wouldn’t be a single person on his friends list that doesn’t see it. Including Vriska) and then typed in, “ ** _Vriska has really tiny titties :B_** ” and hit send. John’s app notified you that the wifi was slow and it would take several minutes for the post to go through, but you locked the screen and set the phone back down. It would go through eventually. You hope.

            Not a second after you set the phone down did it’s owner slide into the chair next to you, hand on his phone. You bit your lip, hoping he wouldn’t open it to check for notifications. To your relief, he didn’t, just slid it into his pants pocket.

            “Having fun?” he asked you casually, leaning forward in his chair to rest his forearms against the table and smiling at you.

            “Loads,” you grunted in reply, bringing your hands down to lay flat against the table. “You?”

            “Oh, I guess. Grinding on the dancefloor isn’t really my scene,” he chuckled to himself.

            “Your ‘scene’ is a pillow fort with a big bowl of popcorn, watching stupid movies,” you shot back, smiling softly at him despite your foul mood.

            “Yup! And you there with me!” he agreed cheerfully, and your heart skipped a beat. God, does he even realize what he _does to you_? You nodded for lack of a better reply, looking off to the side awkwardly.

            And then whipped your head back, to where the side of John’s pinky finger was touching yours. Was that an accident? Was it on purpose? What did this pinky touch mean?? You looked to him for answers, but his eyes weren’t even on you, looking out to the other partygoers.

            You wanted to do more than pinky touches, you wanted to actually _hold_ _his hand_ , but you couldn’t. You looked away, bouncing your knee anxiously, and were hyper aware of the slight shift John’s own knee made, rocking side to side and threatening to bump against you every time it came close.

            That’s **_IT_**! You can’t do this anymore.

            You tugged your shades off your face and tossed them onto the table, and they skittered across the surface and startled John. “Dave?” he called your name with a question in his voice, but you ignored him, leaning towards him until your mouth was by his ear.

            “Cut the shit, Egbert, I’m done playing this game,” you hissed. You watched his mouth open, heard him begin to vocalize his confusion, but you continued to whisper to him anyways.

            “We’re more than friends, and _you know it_. I would follow you to the ends of the goddamn universe, man, you _know_ I would. Come on, dude. Take my hand; let’s get out of here.” You placed your hand on the table, palm up, as you finished speaking. John turned to look at you, brows furrowed in confusion. He glanced down to your offered hand and then back up to meet your eyes, and you added a desperate, “please…” while holding his gaze.

            “Dave…” he began, trailing off, then started again. “This is so sudden, Dave, what are-?”

            “I can’t _do this anymore_ , John!” you snarled, frustration welling up inside you. He didn’t understand, _why didn’t he understand_?? “I can’t play this fucked up game of emotional footsie with you anymore! I can’t… I can’t pretend anymore,” your voice took on a distressed tone, and John’s expression turned to concern, his hand twitching as if he wanted to reach out and touch you. You wish he would. “I can’t pretend I don’t feel the way I feel about you. I can’t pretend I don’t care anymore. I can’t pretend I ever liked your _new girlfriends_ ,” you spat the last of your sentence in the general direction of said new girlfriend.

            Speaking of the she-devil, she was arguing with a kid in a wheelchair, and as you watched she snatched his cellphone from his hand and read something off the screen. Her eyes widened comically at what she had read; her cheeks went red in embarrassment and she looked like she was about to kill someone. And by someone you mean-

            “ **JOHN EGBERT**!”

            Yeah, him. Looks like your post had finally gone through, for better or worse. John’s mouth twisted in agitation at the sound of her voice screeching his name at the top of her lungs. He shifted to locate her, and you leaned forward and whispered again, “Forget her, John. Forget other people in general. Your love for anyone else won’t last.” You hold out your hand again. “Forget them, and take my hand.”

            John looked down at your hand, biting his lip in contemplation. You could hear Vriska’s angry threats coming closer and closer, and John glanced her way to see she had spotted the two of you and was shoving people out of her way to get to you and John.

            John cursed under his breath and asked, “What did you do, Dave?” but before you could reply he had grabbed your hand and bolted, running to the exit and leading you along by the hand as he ran. You barely had time to snatch up your shades as you made your escape.

            You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you as you hurried along after him, glancing over your shoulder to see Vriska running after you. Luckily for you, she chose to wear six inch heels and couldn’t run _nearly_ as fast as you and John, so you weren’t really worried she would catch up to you. Even so, you wouldn’t slow down in case John decided to let go of your hand. You wanted the warmth of his firm grip for as long as humanly possible, after all.

            John burst out of the party’s venue, making a beeline for his motorcycle with you in tow. You hopped on behind him, wrapping your arms tightly around his middle. It was for safety, of course. You didn’t want to fall off. Resting your head against his back was definitely also for safety, you thought to yourself as you sighed happily.

            Vriska ran out of the building right as you and John drove off, and she chased after the motorcycle in vain before one of her heels broke and she went down. The last thing you saw before you stopped looking over your shoulder was her laying on the ground, screaming “ITS OVERRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!”

            John laughed, and you could feel the rumbling the sound made with your head pressed against his back. “What _did_ you do?” he asked again, though he didn’t sound angry or upset so that was a good sign for you.

            “Ruined our friendship, I guess,” you replied, more to yourself than him. He finally parked in front of his house, hopping off the bike and turning to stand in front of you. You continued to sit on the bike, swinging your legs over until they were both on one side, facing John.

            John let out a loud sigh, shoulders slumping. “Well, that was certainly an adventure!” he exclaimed to no one in particular. You frowned to yourself, feelings of guilt overwhelming you after the excitement had faded.

            “I’m sorry about Vriska,” you mumbled, hanging your head in regret. John snorted at your words and you glanced up at him inquisitively.

            “Don’t be sorry, you were right. I was pretty much over her as soon as our relationship started. Maybe even before?” He shrugged dismissively and cupped your cheek. “Hey Dave?”

            “Yeah?” you murmured, leaning into his hand and allowing your eyes to flutter shut. If this was the last time you got to be this close to him, you were going to appreciate every sappy gay millisecond of it.

            “I’m glad you ruined our friendship,” he admitted. You opened one eye curiously, and he continued, “We should be lovers instead.”

            You didn’t even try to fight your smile, nodding at his words. He invited you into his house and you accepted graciously. There was one word that punctuated your relief perfectly.

            **_Finally_**.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact, when I was like 80% done with this fic my sister started playing "Can't Sleep Love" by Pentatonix , and I realized that song would have been a good choice too. Oh well, too late now!
> 
> [ Johndaveweek 2017 calendar link ](http://johndaveweek.tumblr.com/post/161303277014)


End file.
